IN J.D. SALINGER'S famous pair of intertwined stories, Franny and Zooey,
Franny Glass, the youngest of that precocious brood of half-Jewish,
half-Irish children, is suffering through an intense emotional and religious
crisis. Camped out on the living room sofa, she does little more than hold
fast to a small volume called The Way of a Pilgrim, at times reciting -- not
even all that audibly -- what is described as the "Jesus Prayer." Her older
brother, Zooey, does eventually appear in story two to help lift the pall that
has descended upon her.

What is important here is that little book and the prayer and the deep,
sometimes untoward influence that Salinger and his fiction had on people in
the late '50s and '60s. The author didn't make up The Way of the Pilgrim or
the prayer; they both exist, and any number of Jewish kids set off on their
own religious quests, clutching copies of The Way of the Pilgrim or
Siddharta -- anything, in fact, that took them as far as possible from
Judaism, both in a geographical and spiritual sense.

But it seems that the tables have turned in the late '90s, and we Jews now
have a little book of our own that with any luck young people will hold fast
to as they set out on their religious quests. Jewish Matters is a collection
of essays compiled by Doron Kornbluth and jointly published by Targum in
Israel and Feldheim here. While it can fit into the palm of your hand or the
pocket of a coat, and will take up even less space in a backpack, the scope
of its ideas could fill multitudes.

The book is divided into three sections -- Our People, Our Life and Our G-d --
and in each section the basic principles of Judaism are laid out, whether it
is the matter of chosenness or the centrality of Torah or the ethical basis
of kashrut. In his introduction, Kornbluth writes: "It has been said that
more Jews know who Jesus' mother was than Moses' mother. While the
comparison is a little unfair (Mary is more central to Christianity than
Yocheved is to Judaism), the point is still valid" -- and may be even more
applicable to the generation that came of age 30 years ago.

Kornbluth admonishes us to know more. "Being Jewish is a wonderful
inheritance," he writes. "Jews today from across the spectrum of religious
practice are looking to know more about their heritage. It is our hope that
with this book we will begin to discover what has truly been ours."

The book is filled with insights, even for those who have read widely in
Jewish texts. In an essay called "Word Perfect," Ken Spiro, a senior
researcher and lecturer at Aish HaTorah's Discovery seminars in Jerusalem,
points out that many of the characteristics we treasure in democratic
societies -- respect for life; peace and harmony between nations; justice and
equality under the law; accessible education for all; family stability; and
social responsibility -- were never attributes of the ancient worlds of
Greece -- where Western-style democracy began -- or Rome. Rather, they were
the bedrock upon which Jewish life was built.

"The mission of the Jewish people over the last 3,300 years," Spiro writes,
"has been to make this concept of ethical monotheism the universal vision of
all humanity. This is the Jewish role in history and the essence of the
concept of the Chosen People -- a people chosen for the responsibility of
teaching the world about one God and absolute morality."

In the essay on kashrut, appropriately titled "Brain Food," Mordechai
Becher, a chaplain in the Israel Defense Force Reserves and a senior
lecturer at Ohr Somayach Yeshivah in Jerusalem, offers a telling anecdote
underscoring his point that the dietary laws are basically about
self-control and discipline.

He reminds us that most people dread being stuck in the check-out line at
the supermarket because their kids tend to scream and wail for any taste of
the sweet treats that surround them at every angles.
He then offers a true story.

"I moved with my family from Israel to Toronto for a four-year stay and in
the first week was waiting in line at the supermarket with one of my
children. He asked me for a chocolate bar. I looked at the bar and told him
it was not kosher. He was silent, accepting the decision without tantrums,
threats, tears or hysteria. It struck me then that my five-year-old, who has
been brought up with the laws of kashrut, had more self-control than the
million of adults in the Western world. How many people accept no as an
answer in denial of a pleasure that they want now?"

If only this very portable paperback had existed in the '60s. How many
protracted searches for the "light of Truth" might have been shortened or
avoided
completely.

JWR contributor Robert Leiter is Literary Editor of the Philadelphia Jewish Exponent. Contact the author by clicking here.